My Beautiful Scars
by TheSouthernScribe
Summary: A journey in healing and learning to trust again. This fic is dark and contains subject matter, not meant for every reader. Please stop reading now if you think you will be the least bit offended by mature subject matter.


_**DARK FIC!**A journey in healing and learning to trust again. This fic is dark and contains subject matter, not meant for every reader. Please stop reading now if you think you will be the least bit offended by mature subject matter that could include violence and/or strong sexual activity. _

_**My Beautiful Scars**_**  
**

The battle was over...

Katherine was a distant memory.

_The Originals' _demands had been met and for now the saviors of Mystic Falls were left to live as they once had. Teenagers and supernatural beings free to experience life's thrills and chills all while blaming their mistakes on feigned ignorance and the indiscretions of youth. They were scarred, battle tried and tested. Wounds visible to the naked eye and others only present in the inflection of voices and whispers of names.

Bonnie had her fair share of scars; indentations on her skin and heart that would never be forgotten. She'd placed her trust in the hands of a stranger only to have her life turned upside down. She was thrust in the middle of a battle that in spite of all the words her Grams whispered into her ear during childhood and the years that followed, the young witch found she was ill prepared. There was no spell in Emily's grimoire to erase the feel of the countless violations her body had endured.

Mind…

Soul…

Spirit…

Body…

It was Damon who found Bonnie; her face bruised, clothing bloody and torn.

"I can smell them on you." His jaw clenched and his fists tightened with the words. He disappeared momentarily, returning covered in fresh blood, eyes still black with fury, and canines protruding from his gums. She asked no questions and he told her no lies. She knew what he had done and a small piece of her reveled in the pain the monster had inflicted upon the predators that had shown her no mercy. There was no fight left in the witch, she allowed him to lift her from the ground and carry her from the ruins of the house around them.

He paused, almost expelling the apologies poised on his lips, ready to be spoken, but the vampire obviously decided that no words would ever be relevant. He murmured about inhumanity, indecency, and dying at the hands of a monster they thought they were. She tried to black out the images. The taste of the liquor that hung on their tongues, the burning that followed when they drunk from her veins and the awful ache that remained at her core.

Bonnie shivered and this time, Damon did stop, kneeling on the ground, one arm wrapped tightly around her body, as his eyes scanned the perimeter. He still did not speak. He only watched and waited for a nod or a cessation of the tremors rolling through her. When he was satisfied, he stood, lifting her body with his, and continued their journey.

The voices of their friends broke through the trees before she could see their faces. She heard the breathlessness in Caroline's voice, the husky whisper of Elena's tone, and the fanatical responses Stefan provided. It sickened her. The seedling of bitterness forming in the pit of her stomach, how her experience would be overlooked and discounted because she wasn't a doppelganger with the last name of Gilbert.

Again, Bonnie felt it, the tightness of Damon's grip, the unspoken reassurance provided in the firm stance he took when they appeared in the clearing. He turned, shielding her from the outstretched arms of her two best friends. He stepped backwards when they pressed further, demanding that he let her go. He shook his head no, moved around them in a haze before depositing Bonnie's body in the passenger's seat of his car.

He was careful, not to impose upon her personal space as he stretched the seatbelt across her chest. He ignored the words of his brother and the interruptions of the blonde baby vamp when he started the car's engine and drove away from the puzzled faces that remained behind.

They drove beyond Mystic Falls to a town where no one knew their names or faces.

"Meredith," Was the name Bonnie whispered when the nurse asked.

Damon focused and compelled the small staff of the medical facility. He waited outside in the pale blue room as they poked and prodded the young witch. She squirmed on the table, flinching when her feet were placed on the stirrups and the cold goo, invaded the swollen space between her thighs. She remembered the doctor's eyes, blue, almost like Damon's. She thought about the vampire, her secret keeper, and for once she was thankful for his existence. The doctor relayed her findings in short, disjointed phrases, "No long term damage – swallow – effective rate – mild sedative."

Bonnie's limbs were numb when she emerged from the exam room. Damon caught her before she could fall to the ground. He thought of everything, destroying _Meredith's_ chart, erasing the doctor's memory, and bypassing the Grille and the Gilbert house upon their return to the Falls.

Damon kept his distance as they walked from the car to the front door of her father's home. She was safe. Returned to a place filled with memories bathed in love and light, but the sanctity was tainted, destroyed by the burdens she now bore. She stared at the door, counting the leaves and the shiny red berries that adorned the wreath. She felt the cold night air invade her space when he turned to walk away.

Alone, she couldn't bear to be alone.

"Damon, please come in."

Φ _Ω_ Φ _Ω_

Pinpointing the moment when the dynamics of their relationship changed was not impossible. It happened the day he found her and silently promised to preserve her secret. Damon and Bonnie went through a natural progression, things transitioned, from enemies, to friends, and finally to a status that could not be defined. His silence was valued, practically cherished; the ease with which he fell into stride beside her at the end of the day and lifted the books from her arms - comforting. There were looks – leers – sneers, they both ignored, opting to remain blissfully unaware, glancing over the disapproving rebukes of their loved ones.

Stefan's furrowed brow…

Elena's breath-laden sighs…

Their attachment was deemed unhealthy.

Damon was accused of trickery.

Caroline and Elena complained in unison, "She won't return our calls." They pointed fingers of condemnation in his direction, "She's always with him."

No one understood why she chose his presence. Bonnie didn't have the right words to make them understand. What she did know, he was there. His support did not waver. When she woke drenched in sweat and a scream on her lips, her rapidly beating heart subsided when her eyes landed on his outline in the darkness.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays he waited beside her car, his nails bitten to the quick, while she shared the demons present in her dreams with the ginger haired therapist, who offered firm hugs, gentle words, and priceless treatment from the office in the back of her home.

Slowly her smile returned, it wasn't as wide or bright, but it was there. Weeks passed and Bonnie never said the words aloud, frightened that she'd awaken suppressed memories and damaged emotions. Even in her mind she couldn't say, "I was ra…"

The word hung on the back of her tongue before evaporating into oblivion.

Damon knew and that made it easier. He never pressed. So she never took his infrequent gestures of kindness and comfort out of context. She accepted the hand that extended across the dinner table, waited for the coolness of the palm at the small of her back, and anxiously anticipated the gentleness that resided in his eyes when she met his gaze.

It was inevitable. Their first kiss, the first brick to tumble from the wall she'd expertly crafted around her heart. She wasn't prepared for the tears. Her body shook with each every sob, finally she said the words he'd known, and released her self from the shame that had her bound.

"I was raped."

A murmur that could only be heard with the aid of his vampire enhanced hearing. Despite the assurance Bonnie felt from his actions in the past, she still flinched when Damon wrapped his arms around her. She cringed, remembering the words of her attackers, and the way their fingers gripped and pulled at her skin. His touch reminded her of them. The liberties they'd taken with her body, the violations they'd gained pleasure from. Bonnie wrestled with Damon, struggling to escape his grasp, only to feel herself pressed tighter against his chest.

Her tears continued.

She could sense his inner turmoil as she relayed the events of that night. She told him how she received every scar. The way it felt when the first fang pricked her skin. She'd wanted to die, succumbing to the voices of her ancestors calling her home. Her powers were useless against them, a testament to the strength garnered from the human blood they continuously fed upon and the helplessness that laced her skin. If he had not already ended their lives, the vamps would surely have been dust before Bonnie ended her retelling. She pointed to the markings on her skin, smooth blemishes where they had penetrated her veins and drank the essence of her life.

Scars she would always possess; reminders that would serve as a testament of the ordeal. Then she paused, recalling the fury in his eyes that day - the blood that stained his pale skin. He had killed for her, not out of his personally held selfishness, but because someone had harmed her. She saw a glimpse of the man he once was before his heart was broken and his life ended on the foundation of a lie.

When Damon reached for Bonnie again, she didn't shirk from his touch, her lids lowered and she savored the calm the simple motion provided. His lips were cold to the touch, but her skin was set on fire as he urged lips apart.

The walls returned.

The air left her lungs.

She was drowning amidst her own fears. His hands brought her back.

"Its okay – everything is going to be okay."

Bonnie wanted to believe him but there was something she needed more.

"Turn me – I don't want to be a victim anymore."

Φ _Ω_ Φ _Ω_

Damon answered Bonnie's plea, but not the way she wanted.

They argued for weeks in hushed tones.

He gripped her shoulders and shook, "You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what the fuck I want."

She crippled him with a mere thought and later she'd be sure that's when the vampire's maniacal genius sparked. He taunted her in the days that followed. Returning to the nicknames she hated, _little witch, Sabrina,_ and any of the _four P's_ with the last name of Halliwell.

"My magic isn't fiction." She spoke through clenched teeth while lighting the areas of his exposed skin on fire. Each and every time Bonnie mounted a fortified attack against Damon. A smile playing at her lips as she watched him buckle under the pressure. She saw their faces with the words he spoke. She was hurting _them_ not Damon. She was empowered, whole, while on the offensive.

That was the first step.

Bonnie ceased her talk about becoming a vampire. Their arguments grew more forceful; steeped in a sexual tension that could not be denied. Damon's body bore the brunt of Bonnie's frustration. His tailored shirts and pants, shredded to nothing. Red blotches visible against his alabaster skin and imprints from her fingers and lips.

There had been hesitation in moving beyond simple kisses and light caresses. Damon did not want to become an aggressor and force Bonnie back into the role of victim. He'd said that much. So he took a backseat, allowing her to set the pace for moving from first to second and proverbial third base. Her body desired him; it was evidenced in the erect nipples hidden below the thin layers she wore, or the nights she brought herself to completion with her fingers while thoughts of him looped over and over behind her lids.

Still, Bonnie didn't know if she could trust herself to freely give control over to any man, even one who had patiently guarded her heart, body, and soul.

Step two came when Damon introduced the purple hued rope. He watched as her fingers traveled along the silk noil threads and her mind filled with questions. He lay back on her bed, his chest still freshly tainted with the latest blows of her frustration. Slowly, the vampire lifted his hands above his head and schooled the witch on tying the perfect knot. She tested her methods, releasing and restraining him multiple times until she was satisfied.

She pulled on the fibers, content with the belief that he couldn't or wouldn't hurt her. A strange surge of confidence filled her and she let go; allowing her fury to be replaced with passion as she showered his skin with gentle kisses. Her tongue laved at the spots where she'd inflicted superficial damage, snaking a trail around his nipples, down the slope of his abdomen, before she paused and retreated to edge of the bed.

Damon released himself from the rope and met Bonnie where she sat huddled, knees gathered to her chest.

"I'm sorry." She offered a heartfelt apology. "I'm so sorry."

Damon had been more than patient. She'd known about his sexual appetite and deviant proclivities before they became involved. Not once had he allowed his second nature to surface. He shouldn't have to restrict who he was because of her hang ups. More importantly, Bonnie was tired of denying what she wanted – needed because she couldn't move beyond that night.

He was relentless, new possibilities, and step three were introduced with her birthday present.

Bonnie studied the gift in the box for a few days before she had the gall to try it on. She slipped the nylon straps over her curves and adjusted the harness. The attachment fit easily into the O – ring.

"What am I doing?"

It was insanity to feel empowered by the addition of a silicone shaft attached to a harness. Her fingers stroked the curves and played with the head of the new toy. She'd seen enough from the magazines and dvds hidden under her father's bed to know what it was for.

Bonnie hadn't heard Damon when he slipped into the window. She was surprised by his presence before her; excited by the sight of him dropping to his knees, mouth open wide, as his lips and tongue caressed the thin shaft. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled. He smiled, opened wider, and swallowed more of her. The internal attachment brushed against her clit and walls from the friction of his dilligent mouth's movements causing her knees to buckle.

Damon didn't miss a beat, holding her steady as he continued to lubricate every inch of her. Bonnie thrust herself further down his throat, delighting in the sound of his gag as she pushed backwards until he lay flat against the plush carpet. He took her abuse, welcoming the fingers and craft that removed his clothes.

She slipped the silicone from his mouth and sat back staring at him.

"Take me." He whispered, spreading his legs apart, and increased the already enticing offer. It was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard or seen. She was sure in that moment that she loved him.

"You can't hurt me."

Damon added, threading his fingers through her hair, reading the hesitation in her eyes. She slipped lower, stroking his erection, slipping her fingers between his cheeks; her eyes widening when he produced the lube. Drizzling the gel on her fingers, Bonnie returned to the small opening. The witch giggled as she magically controlled his body, forcing his legs wider, elevating his hips, as she used her left hand to guide the tip of the attachment into his body.

He hissed and she wasn't sure if it was from pain or pleasure. So she stopped, gauging her movements by the emotions that played out on his face. He urged her on with a moan and a brush of his hips she straddled.

"Fuck me Bonnie - don't tease me."

She allowed another inch to drift slowly and tortuously deeper. He pushed up again, pleading for more. She filled him completely.

Stroke after stroke Bonnie gained more control; her body responding to the sounds of delight escaping from his lips. It was her name he whispered and cried. She held the power in her hands, the opportunity for him to have full completion or total denial.

Her body was coated in sweat. The rhythmic sounds of the joining as their skin slapped against one another heightened the sensations between them. She dropped her lips to his neck, pulling and teasing the skin there; her invasion of his backside becoming more forceful with the taste of his blood on her tongue. He groaned and she felt the prick of his incisor on her shoulder.

"Do it." She cooed into the crook of his neck.

The vampire's eyes went black and he freely drank of the witch's blood as she indulged in the sin created by his body.

Later as they lay, fully sated, limbs entwined, Bonnie's fingers traced the outline of the fresh wounds on her skin. It was a promise of many more beautiful scars that would come to erase the pain of her past.


End file.
